Chapter 2: The Secret in the Black Notebook
I didn't sleep that night.
At 1:43 A.M., I was still sitting at my kitchen table, staring at the photograph of Ethan beside the black notebook Caleb had left inside the folded menu.
The photograph was six years old.
Ethan was seventeen, wearing his favorite Chicago Cubs hoodie, holding up both hands to make the sign for I love you.
He'd died in a car accident on a rainy Tuesday evening.
At least, that was what the police report said.
A delivery truck had supposedly run a red light near the intersection of Halsted and Roosevelt. The driver fled. No witnesses came forward.
The investigation lasted eleven days.
Then it disappeared into a filing cabinet.
I had spent six years believing that was all there was to know.
Until Caleb Vale.
I opened his notebook again.
The first page contained a handwritten sentence.
Your brother wasn't killed by an accident.
Beneath it was an address.
And a time.
*Tomorrow. 6:30 P.M.*
I stared at the page until the words blurred.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Hello?””
A man's voice responded.
“Miss Mercer?””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Who is this?””
“Someone who would prefer you not visit the address in that notebook.””
My stomach dropped.
“How do you know about the notebook?””
A pause.
Then the man said, “Because Dominic Vale has already asked me to find out what his son gave you.””
The call ended.
I immediately locked my apartment door.
Then I checked the windows.
Nothing.
But someone had been watching me.
At six the next evening, I arrived at the address.
It was an old brick building near the Chicago River. The windows were dark, and a rusted metal sign hung above the entrance.
I considered leaving.
Then I remembered Ethan's face.
I walked inside.
A man in a dark coat waited near the staircase.
“Miss Mercer?””
I nodded.
He looked at the notebook in my hand.
“Come with me.””
The room upstairs was small, furnished with a desk, two chairs, and a single lamp.
A familiar figure stood beside the window.
Caleb.
He wore a black sweater instead of the expensive suit I'd seen at the restaurant. His hair was slightly disheveled, and a thin scar ran along his left eyebrow.
When he saw me, he immediately raised his hands.
*“You came.””*
*“You said you knew something about Ethan.””*
He nodded.
*“I do.””*
I stepped closer.
*“Then tell me.””*
Caleb reached into a drawer and removed a thick folder.
He placed it on the desk.
Inside were photographs, printed emails, bank transfers, and several pages of handwritten notes.
My hands began shaking.
The first photograph showed Ethan standing outside a warehouse.
The second showed him speaking with a man I recognized from the local news.
The third made my knees nearly buckle.
Dominic Vale.
He was standing beside Ethan, one hand resting on his shoulder.
I stared at the photograph.
“When was this taken?””
Caleb wrote the date on a notepad.
Six years earlier.
Three weeks before Ethan died.
“Why was my brother meeting your father?””
Caleb signed slowly.
*“Ethan worked for a company that maintained security equipment. One of its clients was my father's organization.””*
I shook my head.
“Ethan was a college student. He fixed computers for people in our neighborhood. He wasn't involved in anything illegal.””
Caleb nodded.
*“I know.””*
He turned another page.
There was a document showing several payments made to a company registered under a false name.
My brother's signature appeared at the bottom.
I recognized it immediately.
“That isn't possible.””
Caleb slid another photograph toward me.
It showed Ethan holding a small silver flash drive.
Beneath it, someone had written a date.
The day before his death.
I looked at Caleb.
“What was on that drive?””
His hands moved.
*“Evidence.””*
“What kind of evidence?””
Caleb hesitated.
Then he wrote:
*Financial records. Names. Payments.
Police officers. Judges. People my father owned.*
I backed away from the desk.
“Why would Ethan have that?””
Caleb looked down.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then his fingers began signing.
*“Because he discovered someone was using a private security network to monitor people without their knowledge. He found records showing that my father had been collecting information on business partners, politicians, and even his own family.””*
I swallowed.
“And Ethan told someone?””
Caleb nodded.
*“He told me.””*
The room seemed to tilt.
“You knew my brother?””
Caleb's eyes softened.
*“He was my friend.””*
I sat down.
I remembered Ethan coming home late during those final weeks. His sudden habit of checking the locks twice. The way he'd started keeping his laptop turned off.
I remembered asking him if something was wrong.
He had signed, Just work.
I'd believed him.
“Why didn't you tell the police?””
Caleb's expression hardened.
*“Because the police were part of it.””*
I stared at him.
He continued.
*“I tried to help Ethan. My father found out. He took the drive. Two days later, Ethan was dead.””*
I covered my mouth.
“Did your father order it?””
Caleb didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he opened the folder and removed a final document.
It was a photocopy of an internal payment authorization.
At the bottom was a signature.
Dominic Vale.
But something else caught my attention.
The payment had been approved by a second person.
A woman named Margaret Vale.
Caleb's mother.
I looked up.
“Your mother?””
Caleb nodded.
Then he signed something that made my blood run cold.
*“My mother didn't die of cancer. She was killed because she tried to protect Ethan.””*
Before I could respond, the lights went out.
A heavy crash sounded downstairs.
Caleb grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the desk.
A door slammed open.
Someone shouted.
“Caleb!””
His security man rushed into the room, holding a pistol.
“Boss's men. They're here.””
Caleb immediately signed to me.
*“Get behind me.””*
I didn't move.
Instead, I grabbed the folder.
A second later, a gunshot shattered the window.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Caleb pushed me down behind the desk.
And then his security man shouted the words I would never forget.
“Caleb, your father isn't here to take you home.””
May you like
He looked toward the staircase.
“He brought a coffin.””
